


Something There

by aishahiwatari



Series: McKirk shorts [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Female Leonard "Bones" McCoy, First Kiss, Genderswap, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Requited Unrequited Love, Swearing, Transporter Malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 15:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17900786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: A transporter malfunction swaps Doctor Leonard McCoy with his alternate female counterpart.She is just like the real thing, but nothing like what Jim needs.He just hopes he’ll get a chance to tell Bones that.





	Something There

**Author's Note:**

> In case there is any doubt, Jim does not at any point show any sexual interest in Alternate Bones. She is not who he wants. 
> 
> And the Scotty/Pavel just snuck in there, I couldn’t resist.

The away mission had gone well. In hindsight, maybe that should have made everyone suspicious. Nothing ever went according to plan on the Enterprise.

 

Scotty had already beamed back the rest of the crew, leaving only a still-deeply reluctant Doctor McCoy on the ground. Scotty had mostly tuned out the muttering in favour of checking the necessary calculations.

 

“Ready, Doctor?” He asked, even though he knew the answer would be-

 

“As I’ll ever be. Let’s get this over with.”

 

Scotty rolled his eyes. As though the Enterprise didn’t have the smoothest transporter transition in the whole galaxy. He tapped the controls, took the process as steadily as possible for the smoothest ride. He wasn’t a monster.

 

The figure who materialized on his transporter pad, though, was even more disgruntled than he had expected.

 

“Ah, fuck,” Scotty muttered to himself, eyes on the doctor even while he saved every possible fragment of data he could about the transport. The Captain was going to lose his shit. “Doctor, this is not your ship.”

 

“Yeah, no shit.” McCoy turned on him after a brief examination of her skirted uniform. Yep, Scotty was so fucking screwed. “What did you do this time? Transport during an electrical storm? Enter the wrong coordinates? Decide to just wing it?”

 

“What makes you think any of this is my fault!” Scotty objected even as he observed -scientifically- that those slim, tanned legs went on for days. “Excuse me if I didn’t plan for every eventuality in the known universe. Universes,” he corrected, tapping at his screen while observed with a gimlet eye, that imperious arched brow shockingly familiar despite the differences.

 

Nobody could have argued that the doctor -in either case, in fact- wasn’t classically attractive. And Scotty could only hope the soft heart inside was the same either way, the skilled hands and agile mind such important parts of the whole. But neither version of the doctor gave a thought to any of that, uncaring of how they looked and seemed when there was something to be done.

 

“Well, can you fix it?” The doctor’s voice was deep but not unfeminine, that accent surprisingly lovely even when it was wrapped around words of critical vitriol.

 

“Not right now,” Scotty touched the comm button. “Ensign Chekov to the transporter room, please.”

 

“Aye, sir,” came the unquestioning reply. For a moment, Scotty thought he might have got away with it.

 

But then- “Everything okay down there, Scotty?”

 

Shit. “Just an issue with the transporter, Captain.”

 

“ _Scotty._ ” That warning, Captainly tone made Scotty shudder.

 

“We- may have the wrong Doctor McCoy,” Scotty risked saying, unable to avoid feeling glad that he didn’t have to see the light fade from the Captain’s bright eyes in that moment. McCoy narrowed hers at him, though, which was almost worse. Almost.

 

“He hasn’t tried to kill you or anything, has he?” The Captain asked with deceptive calm. It made McCoy frown contemplatively at Scotty as though she might be considering it, but even that seemed pretty normal to him bearing in mind where they were.

 

“Uhh. No.”

 

“Okay. I’ll put out an announcement to let people know.”

 

“I- think they might notice, Captain.”

 

“Computer-“ McCoy spoke up then, and Scotty hastily released his own button lest she be overheard. “Locate quarters of Chief Medical Officer Doctor McCoy,” and rattled off the same Starfleet ID from the file Scotty had hastily pulled up in front of him. He didn’t know if that was a good thing, but the doctor was clearly satisfied enough with the answer she got. “Well, I’m no help here. Call me if you need me in med-bay, but anybody tries to take a peek up my skirt and they’ll be getting their shots in enema form for a Martian month.”

 

Scotty swiftly brought his gaze up from where it might -possibly- have wandered. “Noted.”

 

“Great.” And McCoy strode out, almost through poor Chekov, with whom she exchanged brief stares of acute alarm.

 

“Was that-“ Chekov began, eyes wide, then visibly collected himself. “The Captain is going to lose his shit.”

 

“He’s not coming down here, is he?”

 

“I don’t think so.” Chekov accepted the padd of readings that Scotty thrust at him, began to scroll with that little crease in his brow that meant he was thinking hard.

 

Scotty had to interrupt, just briefly, to ask, “How long is a Martian month?””

 

Chekov shrugged. “About sixty days.”

 

“That’s a lot of enemas.”

 

It took a few moments for Chekov to blink and ask, “What?”

 

“Nothing. Never mind. Carry on, Ensign.”

 

-

 

Jim took the long way down to Bones’- Doctor McCoy’s quarters. He was the Captain, and while his best officers were finding out where his CMO was, he needed to know who was on his ship. They’d encountered too many evil versions of themselves over the years for him to avoid the confrontation.

 

As little as he wanted to do it. The person in that room might have shared DNA with his best friend, but nobody had their history. Nobody else had come back for him, fought for him when nobody else would. It wasn’t the same, not at all, although at least Scotty’s comments had implied that the distinction was clearer than it could have been.

 

He pressed the button for the chime, refused to think about the fact that it was maybe the first time he had ever done so. After a pause, too long for the size of the quarters and suggesting that this McCoy was maybe steeling themselves, too, the door opened.

 

 _Holy shit_ , Jim couldn’t even say, his breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t help staring despite the vicious glare he was receiving, taking in the slim waist, toned legs, dark ponytail, elegantly sculpted brows, soft pink lips.

 

“You trying to attract the attention of the entire ship? Get in here.”

 

That voice, sweet and melodic and shaping the sentiments that could have been so familiar, in an accent a little stronger than Jim was used to, snapped him out of his daze.

 

“Thanks,” he said, doing his best to look purposeful. McCoy rolled her eyes -that same, ever-shifting hazel- and stood in the centre of the room, arms folded, brow raised expectantly.

 

“Give me a minute, alright? I wasn’t expecting this,” Jim said, too casually, once he’d closed the door, loitering close to it because McCoy radiated defensiveness with a palpability Jim hadn’t experienced in years and he didn’t want to make things any worse than they already were.

 

“Whereas for me this is a walk in the park. Is it a universal fact, then, that transporters are death traps cooked up by lunatics and subject to the whims of the universe at any given point in space and time?”

 

Jim tried to suppress his smile, he really did. But the rant was so familiar he just couldn’t help it. “Pretty much.”

 

“Great. I was worried you’d be different. This is far worse.”

 

God, Jim missed his Bones with an intensity that caught him by surprise, but Scotty was working on it. He was in a universe where they didn’t have to worry about the entire population trying to kill him. And Jim was curious. “Your Jim’s not- female?”

 

“Of course she is. Doesn’t make her different.”

 

Well, that was an excellent point. “The others, too?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Bones- is gonna be alright, isn’t he?”

 

McCoy snorted. “We don’t slingshot our men off into the wilderness at birth, you know. Just worked out that way, on the Enterprise. He’ll be fine. Long as he keeps his hands to himself.”

 

That made something unpleasant curl in Jim’s stomach. Bones wasn’t straight, he didn’t think, not entirely, but he certainly had a preference for women. He could easily have found someone to date, if he hadn’t had that first and greatest commitment to the Enterprise and her crew. Certainly there were no feasible options among the command crew, and he was too involved with every department to really remove himself sufficiently from conflicts of interest with anybody else. He spent most of his nights with Jim, sometimes Scotty or Uhura, didn’t seem to suffer from the absence of a more committed companion.

 

But on a ship dominated by women, maybe he would find someone for whom the risk was worth taking.

 

Jim hadn’t thought he had given much away in his face, but either he had or he and female-Jim had more in common than he had thought.

 

“You’re not fucking him, then?” McCoy asked, crossing to the desk and searching drawers until she found the bourbon, pouring herself a moderate measure. She didn’t offer one to Jim, but then again he was still technically on duty.

 

Which was a shame, because it was not a conversation he wanted to have while sober, whether it was with the wrong person or not. “What? No. We’re just friends.”

 

The incredulous look McCoy gave him over the rim of her glass was so familiar it made Jim’s chest ache. It made him stammer out a couple more pointless denials before something occurred to him.

 

“It’s not like- we’re not- is that something you want?”

 

“Well, don’t ask me. Clearly we have a different relationship.”

 

“But- you do? With- your me?”

 

The ache in Jim’s chest had curled itself into a sort of bitter, guilty hope. It had been so many years, he had never thought that they could ever take that step. Had convinced himself that Bones simply wouldn’t want to. And why would he? When he could have anybody he wanted, why would he choose the reckless, work-addicted fuck-up who had brought him to the last place he had ever wanted to be?

 

But this McCoy was so similar to his own Bones that it hurt to look at her. That meant there was a chance, wasn’t there?

 

“Thought you were a risk-taker.”

 

Jim shook his head. Gambling with own life was one thing, but his friendship with Bones? “Not- not with this.”

 

Was that McCoy’s gaze softening slightly? She sighed, and her eye-roll was somehow fonder. She looked tired. “How long have you been pining?”

 

“I’m not pining!” Jim denied instinctively, crumpled under that unimpressed look, from someone who knew him so well. How the fuck had his Bones never noticed? Had he just accepted it as one of Jim’s quirks and dismissed it? “Since the Academy,” he admitted, because it hadn’t felt the same, then, and he hadn’t been able to put a name to the feeling, but looking back there was nothing else it could possibly have been.

 

“Well, who would have thought? You can keep your mouth shut about something.”

 

Jim nearly flinched, had let his guard down, but McCoy wasn’t the only one of them who knew the other’s tells. “If this if you trying to remind me we’re strangers who happen to look like each other’s- friends, or whatever you two are-“ He stopped, because of course that was what they were. He had never met this woman before, had no idea what she had been through, knew only that it was deeply inappropriate to be discussing any of this with her.

 

It only solidified the knowledge he had been trying to suppress for a while, so unspeakably cowardly. “I’ll tell him. When Scotty brings him back.”

 

“ _If_ ,” McCoy corrected, something dark in her eyes that Jim didn’t want to think too much about. “It’s always  _if_ , Jim. Don’t waste what little time you might have.”

 

Jim desperately wanted to ask, needed to know what he could do to avoid ever putting that expression on the face of his Bones. It wasn’t the time. McCoy downed the last of her drink and Jim knew it was a dismissal. He nodded, and left.

 

-

 

The absolute worst part of the three weeks that followed was the crippling loneliness. Not only was he missing Bones, but he had to accept that for the majority of the crew, there was no noticeable difference.

 

He was thankful in a way; McCoy knew how to run the med-bay and was willing to help in any way she could. She had patched up several of their red-shirted personnel with steady hands and a complete absence of anything resembling bedside manner, kept everything running, even submitted her paperwork on time.

 

Jim knew Spock well enough by then to know that it made him deeply uncomfortable, the change in the status quo. He sort of suspected that was one of the reasons why McCoy did it.

 

The threatened enemas never materialized, although four of Jim’s more boisterous yeomen reported sudden and unexplained bleeding from their genitals. McCoy reported with her best impression of innocence that she had no idea what could be causing it. It seemed to have no lasting effects, anyway, except to dramatically reduce the number of comments Jim overheard in the mess about the lengths of uniform skirts. And that was despite, Jim noticed, more of his crew opting to wear them than before, particularly in the blue variations of the uniform.

 

So, McCoy was good for the crew. She had even developed something of a cautious camaraderie with Uhura. Spock appreciated her work ethic, and Scotty accepted her criticism of his various methods, conduct and opinions with a grin.

 

Towards the end of the second week, Jim had locked the door to his quarters and cried for the first time in years. He wanted his best friend back, and it was terrible but he wanted everyone else to miss him too.

 

He had nearly broken down again when, a couple of nights later, the chime had sounded and he had opened his door to find Chekov there, raising a bottle of vodka in greeting. They had sat together, making steadily decreasing amounts of sense, while Chekov explained the progress they had made in tracing the transporter signature, work that was still ongoing. He wasn’t giving up, he promised, and if Jim’s eyes got a little watery at that moment, Chekov was kind enough not to say anything.

 

Chapel, too, who Jim had really thought hated him -and why wouldn’t she?- cornered him in the turbolift after one shift. She silently passed him a padd displaying the results of the physical Jim had been dreading, just waiting for him to confirm that she had carried it out in full.

 

“Thank you, Nurse,” Jim managed to say through gritted teeth as he passed it back.

 

“It’s alright, Captain.”

 

It wasn’t. Not at all. He had Sulu send some flowers down to her quarters, anyway.

 

Sulu, who dragged him out to spar when he was in danger to getting too morose, let him work off the worst of his anger and frustration without complaint. Who clapped him on the back in wordless support and talked about everything else. Jim realized that he understood what it was like, to have someone who felt so much like a part of himself be so distant for so long, resolved to do more.

 

If Jim had been the sort of person to ask for advice, he would have done it during one of those sessions, laid sweaty and panting on his back, aching all over, sated in a way he had thought only sex could bring.

 

As it was, he stayed silent. Until, one day on the bridge, while they were on their way to deliver some supplies, Chekov’s terminal beeped and he let out a little- “Oh!” And then, a moment later, “Goddamnit.”

 

“Ensign Chekov?” Jim looked at him expectantly. It was unusual for him to abandon his professionalism so thoroughly on the bridge.

 

“I don’t- Ah, I have to- may I be excused, Captain?”

 

“Sulu, can you get through this without him?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Go.” Jim told himself he didn’t dare to hope, not when Chekov’s expression was so uncertain. Still, he watched his map screen as it showed Chekov’s progress down to Engineering, and then back up to the transporter bay. It could be bad news, he thought. They might have lost the trail. Might have made a miscalculation that would set them back weeks.

 

He couldn’t concentrate on their mission. Sulu was trying not to look like he was eyeing him cautiously in the reflection on his screen.

 

“Spock, can you take over?”

 

“Of course, Captain.”

 

Jim was out of his seat and striding off the bridge before he’d even finished speaking, fighting the urge to break into a run. There was nothing he could do, he told himself. He just had to know. He felt physically sick.

 

He heard the frantic conversation from the transporter room before he got there.

 

“They’re trying to access our transporter, activate it externally.” Chekov’s voice, and that didn’t sound good.

 

“Then stop them!”

 

“I can’t!”

 

“How long?”

 

“Seconds.”

 

Jim heard the thud of Scotty hitting the shipwide transmission button hard. “Security to the transporter bay.”

 

Jim didn’t carry his phaser on the bridge, hadn’t thought to grab one on the way. They didn’t keep weapons so close to the transporters; that would have been asking for trouble. So he rounded the corner ready but unprepared for a fight.

 

“What’s happening?” He asked, setting himself up to stand tall, his Captain instincts and training kicking in. Getting ready to greet potentially hostile aliens was the vast majority of his job and, therefore, his life.

 

“We’re being hacked,” Scotty told him gravely while Chekov’s fingers blurred on the keypad.

 

“By someone better than Chekov?” Jim asked, without altering his stance.

 

“They got a head start,” Chekov muttered, too distracted for decorum. “Thirteen seconds.”

 

“Can you slow them down?”

 

“I am!”

 

 _Well, who needed security teams when you’d been sparring with Sulu for weeks_ , Jim thought, and took a deep breath.

 

The transporter whirred into life. Just one beam. Jim’s heart was pounding. He had never met anyone who knew the Enterprise systems better than Scotty and Chekov, but they weren’t the only versions of themselves with an interest in their particular ship.

 

He just hoped Security weren’t feeling particularly trigger-happy.

 

Jim’s relief hit him before the others’ did. He would have known that silhouette anywhere, watched it fade into reality with a rush of emotion too deeply to quantify. He was moving at the first possible instant, trusting Bones to catch him.

 

And he did. Jim’s heart felt like it would explode. He and Bones weren’t huggers, as a rule, although they had very little respect for each other’s personal space in private, but having those strong arms wrap around him was like coming home.

 

Jim had always wondered what that would feel like.

 

“I missed you,” he breathed, hopefully too quietly for anyone to quote him on it, and felt the rumbling laugh in the chest pressed tightly against his own.

 

“Least you had a replacement.” He heard, finally in the right voice, from the right person but so wrong, so very wrong.

 

“She’s not you. Nobody could replace you.”

 

Bones, his Bones, his best friend and his reason for being and the only person Jim had ever loved, pulled back to look at him then, with intense concern. He was so fucking beautiful. “Did something happen-“

 

“I love you,” Jim said, before he could convince himself not to, again. He didn’t even care who was listening. With the life they had, he might not have another chance, and he knew then that he’d never forgive himself, couldn’t cope with simply suspecting Bones knew. “You’re the most important person in my life and the only thing that keeps me going, some days. Also-“ because he had to say it, couldn’t leave any doubt, had to take the risk- “I’m in love with you, and I understand if you don’t want to do anything about that, but I need you to know. Just in case-“

 

He faltered. In case what? There was so much that could go wrong.

 

Bones kissed him. Just leaned in, closed the gap between them like it was that easy, it always had been, his steady hands at Jim’s waist, his lips soft and warm and everything Jim had been missing. Jim’s breath hitched, he clenched his fists in the fabric of the back of Bones’ shirt and held him close, knew in that moment that he would never let him go, felt Bones smile because he didn’t have to.

 

He refused to think about how long he had delayed that perfect moment, just vowed to do his best to appreciate and treasure and love the best thing that had ever happened to him.

 

Scotty’s voice cut through the haze, outraged and disbelieving. “You guys have never told each other you love them? I’m sorry, you’ve known each other for how long? You’ve saved each other’s lives maybe a hundred times. Even I recognize that’s emotionally stunted. And I’m British. We’re emotionally stunted twice before breakfast.”

 

Jim laughed, didn’t sob, his forehead still pressed against Bones’ so he felt the warmth of the answering amused huff. “Welcome back.”

 

Bones’ eyes were dark and beautiful and so loving Jim had no idea how he hadn’t seen it before. He didn’t deserve that love, never had, but he was too selfish to turn it away.

 

“Happy to be here. We should talk about this.” Bones gestured vaguely to their embrace, without moving away.

 

“But Bones,” Jim had no follow-up but he adopted his best wheedling tone and pouted just for the fond eye-roll it earned him.

 

“Fine.” Bones gave in, and Jim hadn’t expected that but he wasn’t about to question it. Especially when Bones added, “Sex first. Talk later.’

 

“Yes, Bones!” Jim beamed, adored the flush and rueful smile he got in exchange, took hold of Bones’ wrist firmly. “Computer, emergency transport-“

 

“Jim, no!” Bones said.

 

“Captain, you can’t!” Even Scotty objected.

 

Jim had no idea where Chekov had gone, could only be grateful for his absence and to whoever had apparently cancelled the security team. Fewer people to ignore. “To my quarters,” he finished, ignoring Bones’ pained grimace.

 

In private, finally, he said, “I have waited long enough,” with all the emotion he could muster, and saw the resistance melt away.

 

They kissed again, and Jim had no idea how he had lived without it, felt like he could finally breathe again, tugged at blue fabric until he could lay covetous hands on the wam, smooth skin beneath it.

 

He felt Bones’ lips quirk before he spoke. “Well, if you’d just said something.”

 

It was difficult to kiss while sputtering indignantly. Jim tried anyway. “Oh, like you did, you mean?”

 

Bones took the opportunity to pull Jim’s shirt over his head and throw it aside, doing the same to his own before arguing. “I brought you back from the dead.”

 

“And you let me thank Spock for it.”

 

Bones growled, hauled Jim close to press his mouth to the pounding pulse in Jim’s neck, to bite his disapproval and lick his apology. Jim clutched at him, whimpered, was unable to think about anything but the expanse of skin pressed against his until words were spoken against his throat, “You and he do have that destined friendship thing.”

 

“No.” It hurt to take hold of Bones’ arms, to push him away, to look him in the eye because Jim had let that ridiculous theory prevail for too long. He had wronged Bones in so many ways, and he wouldn’t let that be another. “Some other Kirk had that. I have you.”

 

He waited long enough to see the acceptance bloom and then take hold.

 

“You do, Jim,” Bones told him, reached out to cup his face, stroked his cheekbone with a thumb, was so heartfelt and loving that Jim could hardly stand it. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

 

 _Forever, then_ , Jim thought, and he saw Bones smile as surely as if he’d said it out loud.

 

-

 

Hours later, Jim recalled some semblance of his duty and commed Spock to make sure everything else had gone smoothly. He was assured it had, and that McCoy had been returned to her own universe without further incident.

 

Feeling vaguely guilty about not having been present for that, Jim commed Scotty to ask, “Can you send a message to that alternate universe?”

 

“Sure. It’s not hard. Just wildly unethical.”

 

Well, that answered the question of whether Scotty was still pissed about earlier. Jim stared down at Bones, warm and comfortable and asleep next to him, and couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d make it up to Scotty. “Will you just say thank you, please?”

 

“Aye, Captain,” Scotty agreed, with a sigh, hitting the mute button on his comm to mutter, “What’s another regulation flouted after the day we’ve had?”

 

He was in bed himself, distractedly tinkering with spare transporter parts with the vague intention of repelling future hacking attempts. It was possible his displeasure had broadcast in his tone or his moment on mute had been noticed, though, because Jim followed up with, “And see if they’ve got any Chief Engineers looking for work, too, alright?”

 

“Very funny, Captain,” Scotty acknowledged, and snapped his comm shut, tossing it onto the bedside table. “Like this ship wouldn’t be falling apart around his ears if it weren’t for me. But no, I am destined to go through this life unappreciated, surrounded by risk-taking, rule breaking wankers who think it’s a good idea to use a transporter that was just recalibrated to another universe. Honestly, the nerve-“

 

“Scotty, shut up,” Pavel groaned, glaring sullenly with bleary eyes without lifting his head from the pillow. He grumbled but smiled, eyes slipping closed when Scotty set his project aside and reached out to pet soft curls.

 

“Sorry, love.”

 

-

 

On the bridge of the Enterprise, either countless light-years away or none depending on how you choose to look at it, Doctor McCoy stepped up beside the Captain’s chair.

 

“Good to have you back, Bones,” Captain Kirk said, flashing white teeth in a dangerous smile.

 

“Good to be back, Captain,” Doctor McCoy replied, with a quirk of her lips.

 

When everybody else’s attention had drifted back to the screens in front of them, they reached out and tangled their fingers together, just for a moment, before they returned to their work.

 

  



End file.
